


There And Back Again

by rubylis



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Dom!Barry, M/M, Sub!Len, coldflash - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 04:24:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14887593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubylis/pseuds/rubylis
Summary: Barry discovers Len survived the explosion of the Oculus and has reappeared as his sub at the bdsm club Rain's.





	There And Back Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Daughter_of_Scotland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughter_of_Scotland/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Soothing hurts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5025652) by [Daughter_of_Scotland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughter_of_Scotland/pseuds/Daughter_of_Scotland). 



> Dedicated to Daughter_of_Scotland with many thanks for letting me play in the Rain's universe and saving this story.

Barry Allen, a/k/a The Flash, a/k/a the fastest man alive stands perfectly still, the passing of time temporarily suspended for him as his life, the universe, everything spirals down to this one moment when a two-word text message from Elaine stops him cold in his tracks.

“He’s here.”

His pulse stutters, recovers then quickens in his veins. 

_He’s here._

“Here” being Rain’s, the bdsm club owned by Elaine and frequented by Barry. “He” being Leonard Snart, a/k/a Captain Cold, a/k/a the criminal who died in an explosion to save the world and became a hero. A legend. 

_He’s here._

His fingers fly over his phone screen, quickly tapping out a response but he hesitates at the last minute, thumb hovering over the Send button but not pressing it. It’s impossible. Scientifically, he knows Len couldn’t have survived. Not the way Ray Palmer described the Oculus exploding. Ray Palmer who had left with Len and Mick Rory and a handful of others to travel in time. Another impossibility. He looks down at himself dressed in his red Flash suit, able to run faster than any human being because of a freak explosion. An explosion that should have been impossible for Barry to survive. But he did.

He presses Send, knowing he’ll be at Rain’s the same time his reply reaches Elaine.

*****

He arrives to a darkened club and a “Closed” sign on the door. Before he can text Elaine again, she’s there, opening the door, letting him in then locking up again.

“What’s going on?” Barry heads for his usual room but Elaine’s hand on his arm stops him. “Is he all right?” When she doesn’t answer right away, he follows up with the last question he wants to ask but the first question that needs to be answered. “Is it really him?”

“It’s him.” Elaine considers then adds, “More or less.”

Barry huffs, frustrated. “It’s either him or it’s not.”

“It is Len,” Elaine emphasizes, “but I’m not sure where his head’s at. He doesn’t seem to be hurt. Or ill. But he won’t answer me. I thought you two could use some extra privacy to work things out.”

Barry stops, struck by Elaine’s generosity. “So you closed the club—for us?”

She waves him off and turns to lead the way to the upstairs playrooms. “It was a slow night.”

Barry follows her upstairs and down the hallway and realizes she’s leading him to the Plush Room. That wasn’t the room’s official name, of course, but it’s become the nickname all the regulars use. 

This playroom has thick, polar bear skin rugs—luxurious imitations nearly indistinguishable from genuine furs—laid out before a stone fireplace with a carved wood mantel. A padded leather chaise that can be raised, lowered or the curves adjusted just so to accommodate a variety of positions. Padded leather cuffs at the foot and head of the chaise serve as restraints. A king size bed generously layered with linen and velvet bedding. And, as all the playrooms at Rain’s did, the Plush Room has a well-stocked cabinet of toys, tools, lubes, condoms and aftercare supplies.

Elaine stops outside the room and hands Barry the key. He accepts it, gripping her hand in a light squeeze to match his words. “Thank you. Really.”

She fixes him with her steady gaze. “We have to take care of the special ones.” She nods towards the door. “Bring him back to us, Barry.”

“I’ll try.”

*****

He unlocks the door and enters. The rich, earthy smell of saddle soap and mink from well-oiled leather fills the room. Low light from art nouveau lamps provide dim lighting but the fire crackling in the fireplace provides an ample glow. He toes off his shoes, taking his time, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat as he takes in a sight he never thought he would see again.

Len stands in the middle of the room, hands clasped behind his back, chin tilted up to display the curve of his throat that trails down to a teasing glimpse of fair skin and darker nipples, already stiffly peaked and rubbing against the thin fabric of his shirt. Barry wets his lips. That damn shirt nearly has him undone. The tail half tucked into thigh tight black jeans and half loose has Len looking like a wanton man who barely managed to get dressed after a good fuck.

The pose is Barry’s favorite way of seeing a sub present himself. He falls back on that, on his role as dom to Len’s sub because they’re here at Rain’s, their sanctuary, and nothing outside of here matters. And because if he’s being honest, Barry has no idea what to say or do.

“Good boy. You look beautiful.”

Len’s response is so subtle, Barry almost misses it. Even though Len’s eyes remain closed, a frown line appears between his brows when he hears Barry’s voice.

Barry takes his time, drawing closer, slowly circling Len and studying him from every angle. Something’s not right. But he can’t quite figure out what’s different now. Not until he stands behind Len and sees his bare neck. He reaches out and tugs the back of Len’s shirt collar aside. The wolf’s head tattoo is gone.

“Take off your shirt.”

“Take it off yourself,” Len snaps back icily.

Barry stops, puzzled by Len’s defiance. Outside of Rain’s, he would expect the attitude and the snark. Not here. Not in their safe place where Len could relax and submit to Barry’s control.

“Are you refusing a direct order?”

“What are you going to do, Barry, punish me?”

The words are harsh, cutting, not the playful teasing Barry has come to expect from Len when they’re together here. Curious, he walks around to face Len. He reaches out to trace the hollow of Len’s throat with his thumb then trails his fingers down bare skin to the top button of his shirt and unfastens it. No reaction. Barry slips the next button free and passes it through. Nothing. He works the rest of the buttons free and the shirt falls open a little more, exposing more of Len’s body. 

“Do you remember your safe word?”

“I don’t have one.”

Barry’s voice softens. “Fire. Your safe word is fire.”

Len’s lips press together in a thin, hard line. “Not anymore.”

No safe word. Something in Barry dies a little at the thought of Len with no protection, nothing standing between him and anyone who could do anything to him and Len wouldn’t speak up to stop it. And God, what happened that “fire” was no longer Len’s connection to safety? Barry had always assumed fire was associated with Mick. Had something happened between Len and Mick? Maybe he could ask Ray about it later.

He hooks two fingers into Len’s belt and pulls him forward. Len grunts but makes no move to protest or cooperate. Wordlessly, Barry untucks Len’s shirt, draws it down his shoulders and pries Len’s hands apart enough to remove it and let it fall to the floor.

Barry takes in the smooth, flawless skin before him. All of Len’s tattoos are gone. All of his scars, gone. The burns, gone. He’s staring at a Leonard Snart who bears no physical evidence of his violent past.

“There’s not a mark on you. It’s unreal.”

“Exactly.”

Barry looks up, startled to see Len open his eyes and fix him with a piercing gaze. “What?”

Len exhales, weary, as if the tightness he’s holding onto takes every bit of his will to maintain. “None of this is real.”

“Len.”

“You’re not real.” More emphatic this time, as if he’s trying to convince himself before he closes his eyes again and waits. Waits as if he has all the time in the world. Waits as if he’s all alone in waiting and has resigned himself to that fact.

Barry’s lips ghost over Len’s. “I’m here.”

“You’re. Not. Real.” But Len’s voice wavers ever so slightly. Just enough that someone who knows him, someone like Barry, catches it. Another kiss. Len’s frown deepens. “I died when the Oculus exploded. My body’s just too slow or too stupid to get with the program and accept that fact.” 

The ache in Barry’s chest eases as he finally understands Len’s reticence. “You think I’m a figment of your dying brain cells.”

“Pretty much.”

“Or an undigested bit of beef?”

The corner of Len’s mouth quirks, stopping short of an actual smirk. Still, it’s a welcome sign of his cool exterior thawing. “Quoting Scrooge? Cute.”

“This is real. We’re here at Rain’s. You’re safe.”

“The facts suggest otherwise.”

“I changed time, Len.”

Barry waits, relieved as he watches the tightness ease in Len’s stance. And then, a moment later, his eyes open and focus on him again. Barry can see Len considering the implications of his words, turning them over in his mind. Len tilts his head in an all too familiar gesture. “I’m listening.”

“I changed time and—and I realized it was wrong and I tried to undo what I did.”

“But--?”

“But not everything went back to the way it was. You didn’t die when the Oculus exploded, Len.”

“I see.” 

Barry leans against the chaise, relieved but uncertain of what his next step should be. To his surprise, Len decides for both of them. “Well, then, it would seem I disobeyed a direct order from my dom.”

“You want me to punish you?”

“Yes, sir.” Len drops to his knees, clasps his hands behind his back and presses his cheek against Barry’s leather boot. “Please, sir.”

Barry buries his hand in Len’s hair, long enough now that he gets a firm grip and tugs hard enough to force Len’s face to his. “You need a haircut.” Len’s eyes brighten with sudden interest. Barry smiles. He knows what to do now. A scene they had talked about but never followed through on. “But first,” he releases his hold and sits against the edge of the chaise, expression serious. “You need a new safe word.”  
“Canary.” And this time, this time there’s no mistaking the sly smirk on Len’s lips.

“Canary?” One word that has Barry raising his eyebrows in an unspoken question that, judging from the smug look on Len’s face, he won’t be getting an answer to any time soon.

“Yes.”

“Alright, good.” He can’t resist reaching out to give Len an affectionate scritch under his chin. “Good boy.” Len leans into his hand, eyes closing in pleasure. If he were a cat, he would be purring. “I want you to remove the rest of your clothes, straddle the chaise and present your back at this end towards the fireplace. I’m going to bind you and cut your hair. Any questions?”

“May I choose how I’m tied up?”

“No, but I will allow you to choose between rope or scarves.”

“Rope.”

“It’ll leave marks.”

Len shudders, a soft moan escaping. “Mark me. Make me yours. That’s what I want. And…”

“Tell me, babe,” Barry coaxes, wanting to make this experience a good one for Len.

Len looks up, the eagerness in his eyes suddenly shadowed. “Can we lose the fire?”

Wordlessly, Barry nods.

*****

Barry forces himself to go slowly. As much as he loves the final result of seeing a sub bound and vulnerable, this bondage is a journey for Len, about giving him the time and sensation of rope snug against his skin to allow him to relax and surrender. 

Barry uses the Shibari method. The detail of the crisscrosses and placement of knots just so in the rope means he has to take his time. He’s already used the padded leather cuffs at one end of the chaise to secure Len’s ankles. One on either side as he straddles the cushioned seat. He tightens the bend of Len’s right leg until his calf meets the back of his thigh and works the rope around in a series of simple loops that keeps him securely in place. He works quickly to bind Len’s left leg in the same manner.

Len sighs, the tension in his shoulders easing.

Barry coils the rope around Len’s inner thigh, then draws it taught across his ass. 

“Up.”

Obediently, Len lifts himself as much as he’s able to with his legs cuffed and bound.

Barry double knots the rope, parts Len’s cheeks and places it just so.

“Down.”

Len lowers himself, gasping when he feels the press of knotted rope pushing into his hole. Barry keeps the rope taut but not too tight as he wraps around the inside of Len’s other thigh. Len squirms.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“Yes.” Len answers but his voice sounds strained.

Barry lays his palm on the back of Len’s neck, where his wolf’s head tattoo used to be. “Are you sure?”

Len nods.

Barry leaves the longer rope coiled at Len’s ass for now. He finds a shorter piece and works it across Len’s pelvis, pleased that his sub’s cock is already hard and curving towards his belly. It makes it all that much easier for Barry to loop the rope around Len’s balls and bind his shaft. Len’s hips jerk forward involuntarily.

“Sir—“

Barry stops immediately. “What is it?”

Len trembles, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Thank you, sir.”

“Your pleasure is my pleasure.” Barry slips his fingers between the rope and Len’s skin, checking that he left enough room. Satisfied, he moves on. He works more quickly now, wanting to make sure he has time to do everything he and Len discussed without keeping him tied up too long.

Barry finishes and admires his work. Len’s arms bound in coils of rope and then fastened together behind his back with a web of interwoven, knotted rope. And one final, short piece of rope binding Len’s wrists to the single knot between his cheeks. Every time Len moves—and Barry smiles to himself at how much Len is squirming—the knot rubs across his hole.

Barry sits behind Len, resting his hands on his sub’s shoulders, murmuring words of praise and encouragement. Len’s body relaxes against his. Barry brushes his lips over Len’s shoulder, then presses his forehead to the same spot, closing his eyes and silently thanking God or the Speed Force or whatever powers that be for bringing his Len back.

He breathes in the warmth of Len’s scent. Notes the skin already reddening under the ropes. Mine. He smiles to himself, knowing that for a few hours at least, Len will be wearing his marks. Knowing that this what Len asked for, what he wanted. To be his.

“You’re perfect, Len.”

“Barry.” A soft exhalation, more of a sigh than his name, really, but it strengthens Barry’s protectiveness of his sub.

He rests one hand against Len’s nape to hold him in place, picks up the electric hair clippers in his other hand, turns them on and guides the vibrating weight carefully. Len remains quiet. But it’s easy enough for Barry to feel Len’s body relax into the soothing, repetitive motions as Barry cuts his hair. He finishes and moves in front of Len to check his work. Len’s eyes are closed. The tightness in his jaw gone. His face relaxed. Barry can’t resist running his hand over Len’s close cropped hair. Len makes a soft sound of approval.

“Babe?”

Slowly, Len opens his eyes, but his gaze is unfocused.

Barry uses EMS shears to cut away the ropes. First, he frees Len’s thighs and calves and takes the time to unfasten the padded cuffs from his ankles as well. It doesn’t take long for all of his carefully tied Shibari to fall away. Instead of just rubbing Len’s arms and legs to restore his circulation, Barry uses a plush covered palm massager. It looks like a fur covered computer mouse. But judging from Len’s quickened breathing and the way his hips rise to meet Barry’s hand, the vibrations of the massager are working exactly as Barry hoped.  
Len’s hands tighten on Barry’s thighs, his head drops back to rest on Barry’s shoulder and the vibrating massager caressing his inner thigh is all it takes to send Len over the edge. 

When Len recovers, he’s under the thick, warm covers of the bed, with Barry snuggled in beside him pressing him to drink some juice. He sips. Then lays his head down, staring at the ceiling, quietly in his own thoughts. And Barry waits. Because he knows Len.

“Everything burned,” Len says quietly. “When the Oculus exploded. A tidal wave of fire.” He takes another drink, savoring the cool liquid sliding down this throat. “I…burned.”

Barry nods. He understands now why Len no longer uses “fire” as his safe word.

“What about canary?”

But Len just curls up against Barry’s chest with a self-satisfied smile and goes to sleep.


End file.
